Of Men And Heroes
by BrokenAndDiscarded
Summary: Rome is in its most dire hour. The Empire is becoming a shadow to what it once was and no one is free from fear. Only one man will rise, Taichi, to save his homeland and his friends. T/S, J/M, and K/?. Please R&R!
1. Chapter I

-Author's Note-  
  
Well here is my first Digimon fic (Hmm I think...). I've tried to keep all the Digimon members fairly in character while still manufacturing enough angst and thrill for the story to be interesting. This is sort of like an epic; I just started writing and couldn't stop. It's also a spin off of 'Gladiator' with many of the same concepts as the movie, although I have added a lot of my own elements.  
  
O and a thousand dollars to whoever can think of a better title! A hehe I'm kidding. But please suggest some titles, I'm not that great when it comes to picking catchy headings. (Thus, my chapters are untitled)  
  
-Warning-  
  
Many times Yamato is shown in less than a positive light. While this works for the fic and I do play up a lot to his vain and selfish traits, I like Yamato. Really I do! *Rotten tomatoes are thrown by fan girls* However, I had to make him seem real, and a young dashing Emperor seems very likely to let the wealth and popularity go to his head. Above all he does appear very human.  
  
Also violence! Lots and lots! Well not really but this is a fic about a gladiator so take a wild guess.  
  
-Disclaimer-  
  
I do not own 'Digimon' or the movie 'Gladiator'. I do not own any of the Digimon characters as well, only my original ones. I do not own the Empire State Building, an ice-skating rink, or the world's largest ball of yarn either. *Sighs at bad attempt at joke* O well, you get the idea.  
  
Sorry ^^^^ is so long! It won't be next chapter, promise. Please read ~ review ~ enjoy!  
  
  
  
Of Men And Heroes  
  
By Jasmine  
  
Chapter I  
  
"A thousand stars studded in that night sky and not one whom may grant my heart's sole desire, I fear."  
  
*  
  
Long ago, on this earth that we inhabit, there was an empire like no other. A kingdom that dominated all the other countries within Europe, and in fact the whole world. This colossus of power was known then and forever as Rome. Rome was as grand a kingdom as ever there was; a region developed by the likes of crafty politicians and sheltered by legions of brave soldiers, all protecting a dream they called the 'Roman Lion', a beast of fierce and innumerable might. And all was good for a time; the populace prospered, the merchants grew fat from the riches of the Indies, and the army conquered more and more land until it seemed it might take over all of Europe.  
  
Yet even the lion must have a downfall, an Achilles' heel as one might say. For the very foundation of Rome, the politicians and statesmen, were now crumbling the pillars of the empire with their wretched corruption. They lied and cheated the golden coins away from each other and their people until the masses became displeased and even a rebellion was heard to be whispered on cold night winds. The lion had found his one weakness, the tiny snake of fraud slithering in the grass. For even the most smallest snake possess fangs able to fall a lion and this particular snake is rearing back to strike.  
  
That is how the story was first told to me when I was but a little girl. It always begins with those words, the 'Long ago', the beginning when this land was great. When Rome was a kingdom of dreams and hopes, of men and -heroes-.  
  
That time passed with the carousing of the sand's in the hourglass, and like all things, the glory days of Rome became only willowy memories. Peasants were dying of diseases that swept over the countryside, murdering families at an instance, and the true tyrants, no not pillagers or thieves but politicians, fought and indulged in night crimes in hopes of taking over the throne. They struggled against each other, weakening the Empire as they did so with their constant shifting of Emperors. Over and over it went on, one backstabbing the other, until the land wept for its misled children.  
  
And then, in a time not so long ago, as if from an ancient mist, a hero rose.  
  
*  
  
The large room was alive with chatter and bright colors. A large number of wealthy and renowned people, all dressed in lavish robes and headpieces, were standing about, smiling towards one another and conversing politely. Metallic moonlight cascaded down the tall windows, onto the polished marble floor, and servants, dressed in small flimsy cotton tunics, passed between the rich like ghosts with hollow lost eyes and carrying trays of sugared fruits and meats, the smells teasing their empty bellies relentlessly. Candles filled the hall with a warm glow and glinted off the jewels dripping from the necks and limbs of the wealthy, turning the air into a night sky of electric gilded stars.  
  
Of all the guests, the most honored was Emperor Yamato, the youngest ruler ever to take the throne. He stood to one side of the room, people converging on all sides just to get a chance to exchange a word or two with the likes of such a man. His brilliant blond hair gleamed in the candlelight and he flashed his subjects a charming smile. He wore a robe of white and gold, tied loosely with a gilded broach over one shoulder. Yamato greeted them with a nod and his chiseled narrow face shown with a radiance, as if he was in his element. After all, everyone knew the young sir as a party lover at heart.  
  
To his side stood his brother, the youthful Takari. He looked much like his sibling; a man of striking good looks and piercing azure eyes. Yet it was evident in his face that this party bored him. Young Takeru was not as much of a showman, or a 'smoke and mirrors' type of lad, as his sibling, he was much more thoughtful and inquisitive, preferring to hold afternoon talk with the likes of the great thinkers of the Empire and close friends, and thus the sea of snotty people held little amusement for him. "Brother, when shall this party be done with? Have you forgotten already the treaty we must negotiate with the Prussians?" he asked, fighting back a yawn.  
  
Yamato nodded and shook the hand of a military official eager to please his Emperor and then turned to Takeru, speaking rather aloof, "O Takeru, must you constantly worry of such things which bore my brain to mush? Those Prussian savages can wait one night at least! Now may you go to find a pretty young maid which suits your liking and bother me no more in your pursuit of diplomacy."  
  
Takeru snorted, "These maids disinterest me as much as documents disinterest you, dear Yamato. They are all far too shallow for my pallet. But I am all too certain -you- have seen a woman which strikes your fancy." His pallid eyes stormed with disgust at his brother's wild antics; never did he want to be taken seriously!  
  
"But of course, Takeru! You know me; I will have a mistress for each of the moods that befalls me," the Emperor laughed arrogantly.  
  
Suddenly a man stepped in front of Yamato and bowed low. It was Erasmois, a member of the Senate and good friend of the Emperor. He had a twisted leg ever since youth, which he now tucked back behind him, not so much an embarrassment anymore since all were use to it, but Erasmois hated it none- the-less. It always seemed to drag just behind his gait, weighing him down, constantly reminding him of a past that stung at his heart. Kissing the large sapphire studded ring upon the Emperor's hand, the lanky man smiled respectfully and cried loudly so that his voice echoed across the room, "Friends and loyal followers of this grand Empire known as Rome and the bearers of the crown, tonight we gather together under the safety of the Roman Palace to celebrate a significant day. For on this night of March 15th, our noble Emperor, the son of a man who's valor far surpasses any mortals', has come into the spring of his life. -Tonight- he is to turn eighteen and so enters the coming of his legacy, the beginning of his rein of justice and power. -Tonight-." Erasmois looked at the young ruler with a broad slick smile and Takeru swore that for a moment he saw a flash of cunning in those cool, composed green eyes. "-Tonight- Emperor Yamato steps out from the shadows of the forefathers that came before him and reveals the lion he holds within!"  
  
The crowd erupted into applause; Yamato smiled and was pleased for the time, being bathed in the glory of his people. Takeru seemed to be the only one within the throng of citizens who wasn't clapping, his mind churning in edgy alarm. Then Erasmois held up a hand to silence the crowd, his dark mass of black hair falling before his brow. "And now, as a gift from the Senate and I, you're most humble and loyal of servants, I present to my Emperor the beautiful Mysterious Minstrel Mistress!"  
  
Lovely flute music flitted up to the ceiling in delicate rhythm as a man began to play his wooden reed instrument. All eyes watched as slowly a beautiful maiden seemed to materialize in front of the Emperor. She wore a dress of thin raven black material, which fitted to her slender body nicely and was tied about her waist with a belt of golden chain, revealing slender creamy legs. She wore a hood so that only tufts of silky brown hair poked out from the rim and a veil of thin shadows covered her lower face. Slowly her voice began to flow all around the room in a stream of soft melodies as lovely as a lazy summer's sunset. Takeru was transfixed on the swaying female figure; he watched her beautiful brown eyes relishing each note she sang.  
  
As the song ended, the people cheered loudly like a roar of thunder and the woman bowed low to the ground. As she stood there, in mid-kneel, Takeru was certain her gentle brown eyes met his inquiring blue ones and she raised a slender eyebrow, feeling her cheeks tinge with a rouge at his mere glance. Then she gasped, seemingly lost in his intensity and stood, fleeing the room quickly.  
  
Takeru turned to his brother and whispered, "I must be going Yamato. See this not as any ill will towards you of course, I wish you good fortune on this of days, but I must be off."  
  
Yamato replied in a hushed tone, "Do what you must brother. Good luck to you in your quest for maiden's fair, eh?" The Emperor winked and then watched as Takeru darted into the crowd and was lost from view.  
  
Erasmois grinned and then held up his goblet filled with rich red wine, the purest in all the world. "Who here among these fine men would like to offer up a toast to our Emperor?" Not a person moved, each too weary of setting themselves up to be thought a conspirator against the throne, for these were treacherous times when a heretic could be called at the drop of a hat. Erasmois furrowed his brow in mock puzzlement, "O come now! Surely you may all speak freely here in the house of the Gods, amongst your fellow kin! Who here is a man and not a mouse?"  
  
There was stiffening pause before a voice shattered the quiet like a stone crashing into a glass windowpane. "I believe I will speak." There was a wave of whispers that ebbed among the masses as a young man with a mane of fiery red hair stepped foreword. It was Koushiro, speaker of the Senate, and never was there a man who possessed more wisdom then he.  
  
Erasmois looked pleased, it was the only man he expected and wished to speak. He said in a voice thick with contempt, "Then may you toast our Emperor's legacy in whatever manner you desire, sir!"  
  
Koushiro's gaze was sure and his voice was unhesitant. "I offer up blessing to the Empire and its people, poor and rich alike; I toast now to the hope that our Emperor will prosper under the belief that he is a voice for his subjects and no more or less. Also I raise my glass high in commemoration to the dreams of the children sick in the lanes now whose only wish is to be heard, for now dreams are all that are left of them. " Koushiro raised his glass and the whispers grew louder, yet his deep eyes burned with a passion and a slight loathing.  
  
Yamato was stunned. How dare this man of the Senate come into his own home and imply he was ignoring his own citizens! The Emperor kept his cool and gave a smile, taut at the edges like a tin music box wound up too tight. "Aye. And I offer toast to the dream that Senate will never think its selves messenger of the Gods nor golden cage to the Roman Lion." Yamato raised his glass and took a sip of the crimson liquid, all the while watching Koushiro. The crowd was now alive with lulled gossip.  
  
Koushiro gazed at the man, unable to bridle his anger as he spoke, "Dictators ride to and fro upon lions which they dare not dismount. And the lions are getting hungry." The speaker of the Senate also drank his wine, knowing that perhaps this might be his last pleasure on this earth.  
  
Erasmois drank and peered at Yamato and Koushiro just over the rim of his goblet, the red wine beaded at his lips as he quietly chuckled with mirth.  
  
*  
  
The minstrel gracefully padded hurriedly down the marble corridor as Takeru appeared just out of a doorway. Catching sight of the woman, he shouted, "Wait, please miss!" and quickly took chase.  
  
The mysterious bard turned her head to see the running Takeru and rapidly resumed her flight. Just as she turned a corner, her delicate golden necklace's clasp broke apart and clattered to the ground. Takeru was on it in a moment and picked up the pretty glimmering rose-shaped pendant. "I believe you dropped this," he panted and held out the jewelry in his pale palm.  
  
The girl seemed frightened as she babbled, "I'm horribly sorry for running away, your Excellency. I... I just get shy... after performances... Please accept my apologies."  
  
Takeru smiled slightly at the woman's panicked speech. "No need to say you're sorry, malady. I was the one who chased after you, remember? It's my own fault for frightening you as I did."  
  
The minstrel looked at the Emperor's brother and then hesitantly took back her necklace into her small creamy hand. The golden rose pendant disappeared within the folds of the woman's black robe. With a smile hidden by her veil she inquired, "So I -won't- be sent to jail then?"  
  
"What? For making me run? I think not," Takeru chuckled and then asked, clear out of the blue, "Who's Taichi?"  
  
The girl looked up sharply, her chocolate eyes fringed by a long dusting of eyelashes welled in terror and puzzlement, like a willowy deer preparing to take flight. "Excuse me?"  
  
"Your necklace had etched on it: Love Taichi... Is he your suitor?" the boy said, trying to hide his apparent interest in this enigmatic young woman.  
  
There was a slight giggle emitted from behind the veil. "Gods no! He's my brother," she laughed.  
  
Takeru chuckled too and trailed off mysteriously, "O I see. Well that is good..."  
  
The girl raised a thin arched eyebrow and asked coyly, "And why is that, your Highness?"  
  
"Only that I may wish to see you again and it would certainly be a pity if you were already taken. By the way, there is no need for you to call me your Highness. My brother is the one who insists on all the technicalities, I prefer to be called simply Takeru," replied the young man, a humble yet adorable look on his face.  
  
A tint of pink came over the girl's soft curved cheeks and she replied, "If that is to your liking then that is what I shall do, simply Takeru."  
  
"And of your name? May I be blessed to know it?" the man spoke, feeling rather bold and at ease for some reason in the company of this beautiful bard.  
  
A fracture of a smile singed beyond the veil and she replied, her amber eyes filled with innocent flirtation, "Perhaps another night, Takeru." Then with a last sweeping glance, she turned and ran down the length of the hall until she was gone from sight.  
  
The man stood for a moment gazing off into the space she disappeared into and then a large foolish grin overcame his face from ear-to-ear. Finally he'd met a young woman with some wit and enchantment about her, as well as a stinging range of jabs and not to mention stunning. With a small chuckle that echoed across the marble corridors, Takeru walked towards his own bedchamber. Yet those wide doe-eyed brown orbs followed him, ever present in his dreams.  
  
*  
  
It was a cool night; a sweet breeze blew across the lapping Nile River to calm the scorched Egyptian lands. Lambs baaed quietly as they snuggled closer to the warm fleece of their mothers' and their shepherds lay out on their backs upon grassy hills. A large fortress of fiery sandstone stuck out from the fertile land like a testament of this empire; both once beautiful and grand yet now just meager collapsing grains in the hourglass of life.  
  
A woman lay on an open-backed couch saturated in rippling thin silks and cool shawls under a canopy of cotton cloth. Her name was Mimi, Princess of Egypt. Her long mane of silky light brown hair lay over one shoulder, gently fluttering in the wind, and her skin was perfectly tan. Mimi's face was like a statue's chiseled features, adorned with dark kohl ash all along the framing of her hazel eyes flecked with embers of gold. She lay back upon the satin couch and she looked dolefully up at a small opening in the canopy to see a dark, velvety sky encrusted in vivid stars. "A thousand stars studded in that night sky and not one whom may grant my heart's sole desire, I fear," she sighed to herself and her sad words were carried with the wind.  
  
"Then perhaps I may be your star tonight?" The steady masculine voice broke through the Princess's still atmosphere and at once she looked up to see a tall man standing before her. His streamline chest was bare and tanned; his wild head of raven hair waving in the wind. A small brown cotton cloth was wrapped around his thin waist and a slight smile was on his long face.  
  
Mimi leaped up, her bare feet pattering against the cool stone, and she ran towards her beloved, wrapping her arms around his warm naked chest. "-Jyou- ..." she murmured and tears of mixed joy and sadness sprang to her eyes.  
  
The man ran his long fingers through Mimi's hair and kissed the crown of her head. "My beloved Mimi, I've wanted to do this the whole day. Even as I tended the flock, I thought of you. Have you any idea how you affect my heart?"  
  
The Princess bit her lip and stepped back slightly from the embrace, lowering her gaze. "I know full well, for my heart aches too every time we are apart... And that is why what I must say pains me so."  
  
Jyou's dark eyebrows knitted together and he gently took Mimi's hand in his. He spoke softly as he gazed at her dejected face, "What is it, my Princess? Has something happened?"  
  
"Yes... Yes something has," Mimi began and then looked up into her lover's brown eyes, a tear running down her cheek. Those eyes that had always gazed upon her with such care and affection, those scorched and chapped lips that whispered things to her during their nights together that no other soul would ever hear. He had loved her without a worry to titles or riches; Jyou loved -Mimi-, not the Princess. He was the one she'd imagined marrying and growing old with, he was her first and last true love. The sobs began to part through her now like frothy tufts of ocean waves breaking over a coast, smearing kohl across her high cheeks.  
  
"I'm meant to wed another." The statement was so horrid and stark, like the icy tip of a blade. It left her petal lips and felt heavy, weighting the silence. Yet this dagger would rip into this couple's tender beating hearts up until their dying day, this was their cryptic fate.  
  
The man's mouth fell open in shock and his voice rose, "-What-? How can that be? But I thought you spoke to your father about our love..."  
  
"I did but he would not listen, or more appropriately he did not -care-. My father said that whether I love another matters not for I am to marry Royalty, whether I prefer it or not. He told me love is a selfish emotion, I must put all those silly notions behind me to do what's best for this land," the Princess spoke. Truth be told, she half agreed with her father. Here she was gallivanting and holding midnight encounters with a handsome rogue shepherd when all around her the Egyptian Empire was weakening and becoming increasingly more vulnerable to other nations.  
  
Jyou was still too surprised to think correctly as he said, "This cannot be! We... You and I are to marry, Mimi! How can the Pharaoh just auction you off to the highest bidder? Has he no interest in your happiness?"  
  
Mimi grasped the side of the sofa for support, the weightiness of her bleak fate crushing down on her. "Apparently not, Jyou. You see how our empire has been reduced to beggars at the feet of the high Romans; my father says I must sacrifice my foolish ideals for my people and marry the Emperor of Rome. I cannot help but believe he speaks the truth Jyou, I am but a servant to my Empire..."  
  
"Underworld's fire to the Empire!" shouted Jyou suddenly and he seized Mimi's upper arms with his hands, clutching her tight. "I care not if it came tumbling down on its head! It's only a wasteland of scorched writhing sands, and a sanctimony of fat royals made rich off the backs of the slaves and the poor. Why should we suffer to further this Gods-forsaken land?"  
  
Tears were cascading down the girl's face as she was seized by her beloved, her body quivering as she forced herself to look up into his furious face. "Jyou, there is no way of escaping my fate. The ship comes to port tomorrow at dawn and I will depart on it, never to see my homeland or -you- again."  
  
The shepherd's eyes widened and he asked, his anger softening at the jagged edges to reveal grief, "Tomorrow morn? You have kept this from me for so long and only sprung this dreadful surprise upon me the night before your departure?" A solemn tear collapsed from his eye, rolled along the gently curve of his cheek to fall upon Mimi's smooth brow.  
  
Mimi stammered, "I am sorry, Jyou. With all the world, I am sorry. I felt I shouldn't blight our love, our last days, with such news."  
  
"O take back that sorry! This world is forcing my only love to leave me, I'll not accept it's apology!" he shouted, his voice laced with both fury and an overwhelming sadness. "How dare you do this to me Mimi! I knew from the start that you were a spoiled one, but I never knew you were so -rotten- ! Don't lie to me now in saying you love me when you thought so insignificant of me as to not discuss this. I was a toy for you, an ignorant sheep boy with which to spend evenings with and whittle away the boredom. You did not love me!" Jyou spat, his eyes moist yet burning. There, he'd hurt her, made her reel back on her heels as if struck. He'd hurt just as much as she was wounding him.  
  
The Egyptian Princess' sobs broke through into her words, the tears crisscrossing over her face. "That is not true! You are my love, Jyou, the only one I fear I will ever be allowed in this lifetime. Please Jyou, let us not ruin our last night together," Mimi cried and tried to hug her lover, to encase him in her touch and make things as they once were.  
  
Yet Jyou backed away from Mimi and looked upon her with hurt and disgust. "Mimi, I ruin nothing you haven't spit upon already. This love? Though I may have felt it burning in my heart, I fear it was void in that hard stone in your breast. Have a perfect life with your Emperor, I am sure he will give you all that I could not." And then the tall man vaulted over the railing and was lost in the darkness of the night, running over the fields and allowing the rain of tears to blur his eyes.  
  
Mimi stood there on her veranda and trembled, the wind sweeping over her shear dress of pink and gold. Then she fell to the stone floor on her knees and put her head in her hands, abandoning all but the sobs that ebbed over her.  
  
*  
  
Taichi stood, feeling somewhat awkward among the crowd of laughing people. He wore an outfit of worn leather that was much more functional and rugged then the current colorful garb of the people all around him and his muscular tan body seemed out of place in the sea of slender, pale faced royals who had never worked a day in their lives. Women flocked, of course, all around him, everyone wanting to catch the eye of the successful General Taichi, nicknamed 'Brave Lion Eye'. But Taichi wasn't particularly interested in these women; they were all far too snotty for his liking, with their noses permanently pointed towards the sky.  
  
He swilled back the amber liquor in his glass and pensively scanned the room. In the far corner of the party, hidden just behind a tall stone pillar, stood two conversing figures in the shadows: Emperor Yamato and Erasmois. Taichi smelt the suspicion in the air; it practically reeked with corruption and spiced wine. He quietly slunk over to the marble pillar and hid to one side of it, listening intently to the two men's conversation.  
  
"... Do you really suppose that?"  
  
"Yes, Emperor. That man is dangerous. He holds great weight in the Senate, perhaps even enough to raise them up against your leadership."  
  
"Yes, yes, Erasmois. You may be right but we can certainly deal with that all in the morning, right now let us enjoy the party! I'll lend you a mistress tonight to keep you warm and take your mind off of the boogie men you seem so afraid of."  
  
"Your Highness, I think you do not see the danger in your ways! By tomorrow morn a seed could already be sown, one that is destine to grow into an oak and overshadow you. I tell you now, uproot this seed before it has time to blossom, strangle out all life in it!"  
  
" O Erasmois, we are the best of friends but one day I will grow tired of all your nagging and anxieties. Now leave this Koushiro matter to rest until tomorrow or else I will have you removed from my birthday party at once. I will not have such a gay event spoiled by your heavy sour mood."  
  
"-Youuu hooo-! Taichi! O my goodness, I have not exchanged words with you since... Well, I never did! But still, that doesn't give sway to letting you run away and hide on me now," a bubbly blonde practically leaped upon the man, her blue eyes flashing flirtatiously. She was wearing a particular olive green garment that showed a lot of cleavage and vivacious hips and from every possible position dangled expensive gold.  
  
Taichi tried to silence the woman by raising a calloused hand and clasping it over her scarlet tinted lips. But it was already too late.  
  
Erasmois was upon the man in a flash, his useless leg not even a hindrance to his swift movements, with a small dagger raised to Taichi's throat. "Why were you concealing yourself away, fool?" hissed the man with the electric green eyes. The woman pulled away from Taichi, screamed in terror, and ran into the crowd.  
  
Taichi looked the man in the face yet didn't say a word, twin metallic blades glimmering in his deep eyes. The tension was so thick between the two it was suffocating and Taichi's lips were set firm in a scowl.  
  
Emperor Yamato was soon by Erasmois side and he said, "What have we here? Isn't this the brave General Taichi who served my father? Erasmois let the man go at once!"  
  
The member of the Senate let his sword drop reluctantly and Yamato put a hand on the General's shoulder. "Let me apologize for Erasmois. My friend has been on edge lately, seeking out mere ghosts hidden in the shadows," charmed the Emperor with a jovial laugh.  
  
Taichi glared at the two men and said dangerously, "Then may your friend stop hunting for these ghosts before he finds that there are other things, much more real and -dangerous-, lurking along in the shadows as well."  
  
Yamato seemed puzzled for a moment, yet quickly covered that up with a radiant smile. "Point well taken. Do you hear that Erasmois?" the Emperor spoke and then looked at Erasmois sternly.  
  
Erasmois nodded his head yet his gaze blazed with hatred towards Taichi. He said gravely, "I hear well, your Excellency. And what I hear is insolence towards you; he speaks with a laced tongue in your presence. Perhaps you should ask General Taichi why he was hiding about, listening to our discussion like a spy?"  
  
Taichi teeth grated and his hand neared perilously towards the hilt of his sword. "What I was doing is none of your business, Erasmois. You are in no position to call me a heretic."  
  
"Now, now men," intervened Yamato, "Let us not spoil my eighteenth birthday, eh? Please keep your tempers at bay for one night."  
  
Taichi glared at the two men before he strided away into the crowd.  
  
"Is that enough proof for you that a rebellion is brewing in the night sky, your Highness? Spies are at every corner, listening with peeping ears," spoke Erasmois.  
  
Yamato lost it, his temper flaring. He growled, "That is enough, Erasmois! All that I saw was you making a mockery of yourself, and me, by calling false claims against a loyal General of mine! Get out, now! Leave this Palace or else I will have you -beaten-!"  
  
Erasmois narrowed his green eyes and then stalked off.  
  
Yamato rolled his eyes, his anger melting away just as quickly as it swelled, and murmured to him self, "Can't I have just one peaceful night, Gods? Just one?" Then he caught sight of a pretty woman and was on his way.  
  
*  
  
Erasmois passed through the crowd, anger inflaming him. The new Emperor, and his dearest 'friend', was much too defiant for his liking, Erasmois had thought he might be merely a weak pawn to control the Empire with but now saw it would be much more difficult then this. General Taichi was also proving to be an unsuspecting thorn in his side; he might one day be a worthy adversary if Erasmois did not act quickly.  
  
He neared close to a man with a glossy shaved head and small, beady eyes set in a rough pudgy face. Erasmois looked around and then whispered, "Holton, go to the Speaker of the Senate's house in the city and there I wish you to dispose of him in any means necessary. Do all of this quietly."  
  
The man chewed slowly on his grimy fingernails and then smiled a yellow- toothed grin at Erasmois. He nodded his head and then lumbered off.  
  
Erasmois' plan was working perfectly. When Koushiro was found dead, it would be apparent to all that it was the doing of Emperor Yamato after the little seething speech the Speaker of the Senate had made against him this very night. This would enrage the elders of the Senate and they would pull back their support from the youthful ruler... And without their aid, Yamato would be like a sapling, easily controlled or cut down. My, how glorious fate could be when it worked in his favor.  
  
*  
  
-Closing Notes-  
  
Well that was a lot more drama and very little action. This chapter I believe is the most boring, it gets a lot more interesting as the chapters go on. Mimi and Jyou are no more? Kari and Takeru seemed to have hit it off no? Hmm is Erasmois working his own plot for the crown? And where o where is Sora?  
  
Side note, I am really -really- mad you can't download bold letters! What the -? How am I supposed to make this dramatic if I have to put freakin - 's everywhere? It cramps my artistic talent; I just can't work like this. *Throws papers in air and storms off* Haha, I'm just joking, I'm not even holding papers. But seriously Fanfic.net is a great site, don't get me wrong, but this is so -lame-. Hehe. 


	2. Chapter II

Author's Note:  
  
Well here is my first Digimon fic (Hmm I think...). I've tried to keep all the Digimon members fairly in character while still manufacturing enough angst and thrill for the story to be interesting. This is sort of like an epic; I just started writing and couldn't stop. It's also a spin off of 'Gladiator' with many of the same concepts as the movie, although I have added a lot of my own elements.  
  
Disclaimer:  
  
I do not own 'Digimon' or the movie 'Gladiator'. I do not own any of the Digimon characters as well, only my original ones. I do not own the Empire State Building, an ice-skating rink, or the world's largest ball of yarn either. *Sighs at bad attempt at joke* O well, you get the idea.  
  
So please read ~ review ~ enjoy!  
  
  
  
Of Men And Heroes  
  
  
  
By Jasmine  
  
  
  
Chapter II:  
  
"You are my son, you were born strong. Life makes a person hard, that is not difficult to come by, but sometimes there are a rare few who are born with courage inside them."  
  
The tiny cobblestone pathway was barren of all life except for the few occasional damp morning doves cooing in the spire or a mangy mutt hunting for sewer rats. The dark night sky stretched out in a span of a vast electric star-encrusted horizon and a pallid moon illuminated the dark, although unable to part the blue shadows that skulked across the deep corners of the street. The only person to move along the lane at such an ungodly hour was the brave General Taichi. He walked briskly down the road; his breath coming out in hot ragged turrets.  
  
"Taichi, wait!" shouted a familiar voice and a petite figure shrouded in a black robe stepped out of an alleyway.  
  
The warrior smiled a bit at the sight of this girl and came closer to her. "Hakari, what are you doing out at this hour? A respectable lady should not walk the lane during the dead hours of night," he disciplined.  
  
The girl gave a look of reprimand also and retorted, "And shant an honorable man either, brother! I came out to find you after you did not return home and stop you from doing whatever foolish deed you plan on carrying out tonight."  
  
"It is not a foolish act I do tonight, Hakari, I wish you could that. It is but one of honor," said Taichi, not so much boasting but rather convincing both her... and perhaps himself.  
  
Hakari rolled her moist amber eyes. "O yes what an honorable deed! To go against the corruption of Rome, to fight a battle already lost! Brother, let another do the heroics for a time. Take rest, take rest!" she pleaded wearily.  
  
Taichi lowered his gaze from his sister's hurt expression and replied, "You know I cannot do that. To give up would be to lose my conscience, I must fight for my friends and for father..."  
  
"For father?" hissed Hakari suddenly and bitterly, "Do nothing for that man!" The were savage tears in her throat, tingeing her acidic words with sorrow, "He battled that serpent of corruption until he was killed by it. Our father, our hero, left us alone to fend for ourselves and forgot about us for some will-o-wisp dream of the long past glory of Rome!"  
  
Taichi shook his head of thick dark brown hair and said, "I am sorry... that you see what our father did as a waste. What he did was not selfish; he gave up all his happiness to aid his homeland and his people. If he had to sacrifice his children's happiness as well... Maybe that was cruel but necessary. Given the choice I think I might have had no other option then to do the same."  
  
Hakari's angelic face became slick in the pallor of the moon, a trail of tears along the creamy map of her flesh. "Yes, I know. I see you falling slowly down the same path as father and I want desperately to hold onto you and make you stay... But I can't, can I? Somehow you are already gone..." she whispered to him, frustrated and helpless.  
  
Taichi looked at his saddened sister and suddenly took her in his arms, hugging her tightly to him. He spoke to her in a hushed tone, as her damp check pushed into his shoulder, "Sister, what happens next is already aligned in the night sky. I may fight for the Roman Lion and also be made to leave you. But know this now, if that is true then I will think of only you as I lie in the sun dappled halls of Olympus and never ever will I forget you."  
  
The girl was enveloped in her own grief and overwhelming feeling of despair. Taichi had been like a father figure to her all her life, caring for her even when they were surviving only on the kindness of others, and now to be suddenly threatened with his disappearance... Why it was almost too much for the girl. But Hakari wasn't a weakling and she soon stifled her tears for her brother's sake. Looking up into Taichi's handsome face, she said, "Go now and remember me."  
  
The man stared at his young sister for a moment, the beautiful maid who had grown up before his eyes and had never looked so mature to him until now. Then rising up all his might he stepped back and he sprinted down the dark road. Taichi ran, the faint trace of tears blurring his vision, until he finally came to a small house in the center of the city. Ivy climbed up the wooden pillars and a small candle glimmered in gilded bands across the window. He proceeded to the door and knocked three times.  
  
There was rustling heard on the other side of the door and after a few minutes, a voice hesitantly inquired, "Who is at my thresh hold?"  
  
"It is I, General Taichi. I come as a friend and informer to Koushiro."  
  
There was a movement of locks grating in their bolts and then the door opened to reveal a short red haired Koushiro dressed in a nightgown and slippers. His face was handsome for a scholar, and youthful too, still retaining traces of a boyish spirit. "Sorry for all the extra security measures, Taichi, but I've had to be especially careful lately with all the enemies I seem to be making," the man spoke and then opened his door wider. "Come in friend."  
  
Taichi stepped foreword and entered the warm, inviting room. Koushiro's furniture was plain and simple to look upon yet useful and comfortable, much like Koushiro liked to think of him self as being. The air smelt of aged books and the ruminants of a late night snake, cinnamon clinging to Taichi's nostrils.  
  
The wise speaker of the Senate ushered Taichi to a chair and asked politely, "Sir, can I offer you some hot tea on such a chilling night? I'm afraid I'm all out of Chamomile but I just recently bought a parcel of Jasmine in from the Indies and it's quit delicious."  
  
Taichi shook his head and, as quickly and as courteously as he could muster under the straining situation, replied, "No, I fear we have hardly any time for pleasantries tonight, dear friend."  
  
"O and why is that?" Koushiro spoke, his face giving away his feelings of anxiety, his fiery brow rising.  
  
"I overheard Erasmois speaking with Emperor Yamato at the party and he spoke of his fears that you may be rising up a revolution. The Emperor wasn't particularly worried but I believe Erasmois may try an attempt on your life sometime in the near future, Koushiro."  
  
The red haired man sturdied himself on the arm of his chair and sighed, "I had some idea he might. It was my own fault for speaking at tonight's party... But I could not help myself after watching those royals gorging themselves on roasted boar and swilling back wine when out on the street their 'undesirables' struggled to survive. I found myself unable to ignore the inconsiderate injustices swarming around me anymore. I just... could no longer play blind."  
  
Taichi agreed with Koushiro, nodding his head of thick brunette hair, "Yes, as do I now. I feel myself growing increasingly more eager to show these cowards that not all their subjects are as weak and broken as they believe."  
  
"Then hopefully all of Rome is becoming just as fervent and are preparing themselves for a revolution, eh Taichi?" his friend responded, a rare emotion for these times caught in his voice - hope.  
  
Taichi was less believing yet he spoke to Koushiro, urgency in his deep eyes, "That is why you must flee now. You must stay hidden for a time and then convince the Senate to go against the tyranny which rules the empire. This revolution will need you alive, Koushiro."  
  
The speaker of the Senate rose from his chair and reached over for his warm woolen black cloak. "Alright, I am on my way," he spoke curtly and turned towards the entranceway, placing the robe over himself.  
  
Suddenly there came a knock at the door, heavy and thudding, and a booming voice cried out, "Koushiro, come to the door! I have a message to deliver."  
  
Taichi pulled forth his sword from its sheath, a familiar din of metal slipping across its case echoing across the small room, and then whispered to Koushiro, his tone grave, "Go out the back and escape unnoticed. I will distract the Emperor's blood hounds."  
  
Koushiro nodded and carefully ran to the back way. He opened the door, a small fracture of iridescent moonlight sent free to scatter along the floor, and was halfway out when Taichi suddenly called in a hushed tone, "Koushiro, were can I find you when the time comes?"  
  
The wise Koushiro looked over and replied, "Don't worry, Brave Lion Eye, when the time is ripe I will find you." And then, leaving the rest to fate, he stepped out into the pitch black of the night and gently shut the door.  
  
"Koushiro, you buffoon, open the damn door!" rumbled the man on the other side of the door. A very angry delivery boy at that.  
  
Taichi strided over to the front entranceway and shouted back, "Hold your horses, I'll be there in a moment!"  
  
The General opened the door to see a tall burly man with a bald head standing there, cutting the outline of a gigantic bear. There was a sword at his hip but Taichi doubted he'd use it, he didn't need to, by sheer seize alone he could easily clobber an unsuspecting victim. His face was hidden by the shadows but his small glistening black eyes twinkled and glittered like dark shards of precious stone. Taichi wasted no time, having surprised the man because he had been expecting a helpless and half-awake Koushiro to answer the door when it was obviously not the case, and lashed out with the hilt of his weapon, knocking the giant to the ground with a spurting gash over his left brow.  
  
There were nearly ten men all gathered around Koushiro's house and they all brandished metallic weapons. They were soldiers but the lowest form of them, the greasy ones that did not mind running night 'errands' as long as it got them a few extra coins in their pockets. Taichi at once knew he was outnumbered yet he put up a brave fight as they savagely leaped on him. The man took down four of them, slashing out with his blade and laying them flat, before he was finally beaten to the ground.  
  
"Haul him up!" barreled Holton as he staggered to his feet. He lumbered over to the aching and bleeding Taichi with a smirk playing on his lips. Blood rushed down Holton's cheek from the wound the General had inflicted upon him. "You hit me good with that hilt, huh? I'm bleedin' bloody Underworld eh? Well I'm going to make you wish you hadn't spared the blade on me, boy," he growled cryptically before raising a powerful, thick fist and contacting with Taichi's face.  
  
The world went blank for Taichi, with only hot white stars bursting over and over against his eyelids, before finally it all disappeared in a blur. A vision tramped about his feverish brain and danced above his eyes, mocking him with its sour tale.  
  
~  
  
A man ran down the lane, his pale face a mask of panicked fear. Helios had hair of dark brown and eyes of pale amber; his body was riveted with muscles the likes that only a fighter would have. A spindly boy, about the age of six, ran at his side, his innocent face peering with curiosity down the darkened path. Clutched in the man's warm arms sat a two-year-old girl, her soft brown hair fell about her eyes and her tiny angelic face was wet with tears.  
  
"Father, my legs are getting tired," whined the little boy and he slowed his pace a bit, breathing in deep.  
  
The misfortuned man looked down at his son and replied compassionately, "I know son, but we must all gather our stamina... Pretend for father that you are racing Hakari home for supper, son. You always win those races now don't you, Taichi?"  
  
The boy beamed up with a grin. "Uh hu! I'm the fastest boy in all of Rome, father!" he trumpeted. Then seeming to forget his weariness, Taichi dashed off and soon his father came running up beside him, matching stride.  
  
The man turned his head to glance down the road and saw three military issued steeds galloping in pursuit, appearing to him like ethereal nightriders come to end his life. Hot breath stains billowed from their nostrils and their snorts ruptured the still of the night, rumbling along the buildings. Helios frantically pushed onward and saw up ahead, on the very brink of the city, a bridge covering a slow moving stream. He directed his son over to the wooden bridge and then led him down the slope, beneath the dark covering of the structure. The boy's feet sunk deep into the damp sand, plastering to the soles of his worn leather shoes, as he was pushed his back up against one side of the wooden bridge, hidden by the shadows.  
  
Up above the horses' hooves could be heard clomping overhead and panting with exertion. A soldier's voice echoed across the still night air. "Helios! You coward, come foreword! Come out now or else we will find you and those two brats and beat all three of you to death!" he cried spitefully.  
  
Helios took Hakari out of his arms and placed her into his son's embrace. She reached out with a chubby hand and cried softly, missing her father's touch already, "Dada!"  
  
The man looked softly at his daughter, his eyes teeming with remorse, and took her hand in his. Kissing it gently, he whispered to her, "My beautiful Hakari, stay with your brother and listen to him. My little songbird, how I will miss you..."  
  
"Where are you going father? Why are those men chasing us?" the young Taichi chimed quickly. This appeared to him like one of those adventures his mother would read to him at night before she passed on when he was five, like some tale of a young hero having to flee before his final bout with the evils of the world. He had no doubt this was not an end, his father would grow strong and rise up. Just as all heroes did in the stories, this would have a 'happily ever after'.  
  
Helios turned to his son and hushed him, "I must go away son. Worry not about me and take good care of Hakari and yourself. Know that I will always love you."  
  
Taichi looked scared, for the first time the peril of this situation began to sink into his young mind, he'd be truly and utterly alone. "F- Father, but I am not strong enough to watch over sis and I! I need you, father!" he urgently cried.  
  
The man put a hand on Taichi's shoulder and with his other hand touched his son's young cheek, running his tough work-worn thumb across his supple flesh. "You are my son, you were born strong. Life makes a person hard, that is not difficult to come by, but sometimes there are a rare few who are born with courage inside them. I feel this in you, Taichi. Remember what I once told you, son?" he asked him, gazing down on his son.  
  
Tears were now falling from the boy's brown eyes as he clung to his sister and welcomed his father's kind loving touch. "Yes," he whispered in his childish logic and repeated what he somewhat recalled his father saying to him. "That I am a lion ghost," he responded matter-of-factly but of course the repetition was skewed slightly.  
  
The man nodded in grim approval, a lopsided grin gliding over his face, singeing the darkness a bit. "That is right, Taichi. You have a tough spirit, the spirit of a lion. I can see it in you, the roar of the large cats. Remember that Taichi. Remember you have a lion spirit for the rest of your life. That will give you all the strength you need son." Then Helios kissed his son's forehead and climbed up the embankment.  
  
*  
  
"Calantha there is someone here to see you. Will you receive them?" said a tall, high-cheeked old woman clad in a gray smock and apron. Her peppered hair was tied back in a tight bun at the nape of her neck, pulling at the ends of her temples, and her dark eyes gazed at the girl lying back in her bed.  
  
The young woman had long raven black hair that trailed down her back in silky strands and startling blue eyes that gazed out at the world listlessly, fringed by a dusting of long black eyelashes that brushed against the rises of her cheeks. The moonlight descended solemnly over her flesh, as if trying to revive her with its shimmering metallic beauty, and yet she lay there vacant and immovable. She lay in a small bedroom, rosy flower patterned wallpaper adorning the walls and the flitty sent of honeysuckle passing in the air from where it clung to the trellis by her lone window. Calantha wore a thin dusty pink nightgown tied to her with a satin ribbon and a blanket was draped over her limp, weak legs. The girl looked so fragile, like a tiny pale-skinned porcelain doll that at any moment could be cracked by a hard breeze.  
  
The nursemaid shook her head, whispering to herself, "I don't know why I bother to ask, the poor dear won't give me a reply, ever since that dreadful accident." Then she stuck her head out the door and called, "You can come in, sir."  
  
In entered a man with dark brown hair and astonishing emerald eyes, his walking gate uneven as his dead foot fell hard across the floor. "Thank you, ma'am," he responded and offered her a smile of thanks; one the crafty man probably practiced a lot.  
  
Nanny nodded her head and nervously wiped her hands upon her apron. "Yes and don't stay long, you hear? I fear all these visits could tire Calantha dreadfully. You know, she's not a crystal ball or some wandering gypsy, she's but a young girl!" she clucked.  
  
Erasmois replied with a slight nod of his head, "Of course, Mrs. I'll take extra care not to make her too weary and I'll only stay for a few short minutes."  
  
His attempt at charming the old nursemaid only resulted in a wrinkled tight- lipped scowl. The woman 'hmphed' and then was on her way out the door, leaving it slightly ajar so she might listen in if ever Calantha was in need of something.  
  
"Good evening, Calantha. You look just as lovely as ever," Erasmois said with a smile, as was his usual greeting. Yet Calantha remained the same, her face stiff and lifeless. Erasmois coughed and then spoke again, "I'm sure you know why I'm here. You are the only valued Seer in all of Rome, you predictions have never led me astray yet, and I must ask you a question: What will happen if I might seek more power?"  
  
Calantha's blue eyes reflected nothing yet her frost tinted lips opened slightly and words sprouted out like a song in a girl's beautiful voice, "Erasmois, crippled son of the politicians ~ You are sniffing out dominance like a snake ~ To all my heeds I know you will not listen ~ Your life is his to take."  
  
Erasmois furrowed his eyebrows together and smacked his lips together. Again he spoke, yet harshly now, all his good manners melting away like winter's ice, "What are you talking about? Surely you are mistaken, Calantha! Perhaps your head is all befuddled, search again for my future and do not sully it this time!"  
  
The girl began to shake as if a tremor creased over her body and she started to speak once again, this time however her voice was loud and her poetic words were now screamed, tarring from her lungs as if it were a battle cry, "Bring forth the sword ~ The man is twisted with his greed ~ Bring forth the sword! ~ Make his deformed body bleed!" Her words were shouted with such loathing, raucous and gritty.  
  
Erasmois' slick eyes swelled wide and he stood up from the chair, distancing himself from the crazed girl. The nanny dashed in and immediately set about calming the young woman as she shouted to the man over Calantha's tortured shrieks, "Leave now, you dreadful man! Leave the girl to rest!"  
  
Erasmois seemed quite shaken himself and his fingers trembled as he rose up his cloak and was out the door in a flash, dropping only a few coins at the doorpost.  
  
The nursemaid held the girl to her chest and soothingly patted her head. The old woman shushed Calantha, rocking the girl back and forth like a babe. Her eerie eyes were swollen into large discs, luminescent in the dark, and her pale skin was coated in a filmy sweat. Calantha whispered weakly over and over as her nanny held the cold, lifeless girl to her, "In the ground the snake will forever lie ~ You shall bring about triumph, Lion Eye."  
  
*  
  
A big muscular man walked down the aisle dragging behind him an arm that appeared to belong to a motionless Taichi. He wore a soldier's leather tunic and a badge of beaten silver was clasp to one shoulder, signifying his importance. On all sides of the large man, caged in barred prison cells, there were sobs for help and shouts of lewd remarks. Dirty faces pressed out against the frozen bars, mouths brimming with tarnished yellow teeth spitting and cursing at him as he passed.  
  
The man came to stop at the sixth cell and started to retrieve his heavy keys, the metal trinkets rattling away in his pocket.  
  
A man, tiny and gaunt, stood with his face close to the edge and his hands clasped around the bars. He snickered, "Another lively one I see, constable? Another one for you to grope and beat, eh?"  
  
The constable, finally having retrieved his set of iron skull keys, unlocked the dank dungeon cell and gruffly said, "Shut your gob, tiny Hang Nail, or else I shall take my club to your back side."  
  
"O I bet ya'd like that, you black hearted man," smirked the prisoner, his wide brown eyes glittering and his face thick with grim.  
  
The jailer threw the poor beaten man onto the hard stone floor; a slight groan compressed from the man's lungs as he slammed against the ground, and then locked the cell back up again. He took from his belt a ruddy stick and in a flash struck it against the tiny man's bony knuckles that clutched the jail's bars. The prisoner screamed and cursed in pain and the constable laughed perversely, "Aye, I'd enjoy it greatly so you best not give me a reason to bruise ya up." Then the jailer strided off to his desk.  
  
"Aw bloody horseshit! I have to learn to keep my mouth shut," griped the tiny blonde haired man as he sat down upon the floor beside the unconscious man and sucked on his grimy fingers. Then, his throbbing knuckles forgotten for the moment, the tiny prisoner looked over at his cellmate and then poked him with a knobby index finger.  
  
"Ya alive chum?" he asked and was rewarded with no reply. Happily he began to search the man's tunic for any items as he spoke to what he believed to be a corpse, "No? Well then I'm sure you wouldn't mind me lifting off a few trinkets eh? Just between cellmates o' course..."  
  
The man searched and finally found something of value: a thick golden ring with a lion embezzled on it left in his tunic pocket. The prisoner eagerly reached for the ring when suddenly a hand shot up and grabbed him by his weak wrist. "Don't twitch a muscle or I'll snap your hand clear off."  
  
The tiny man looked up in fright to see that Taichi was in fact alive and his brown eyes were storming. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you... I- I just thought..." Hang Nail stammered, trembling uncontrollably.  
  
The strong man let go of the bony wrist and sat up, saying, "Yes I know what you thought. That I was as good as dead and I'm actually very close to it."  
  
The blonde recovered from his fright and released a satisfied sigh at realizing he'd be allowed to keep his hand for at least today. "I can see that. Pardon my frankness, but you look like Hell. Got in a bar fight?" he questioned, rubbing at his wrist.  
  
"No, actually something much worse," Taichi responded mysteriously while flickering his gaze around the prison. It was a typical establishment, grit managed to gather everywhere and there were scarcely any windows except for one way atop the cell, small and barred to allow banded light to stretch along the walls. There was the smell of wet dirt heavy in the air along with the decay, of vegetation or flesh Taichi was not sure, and water trickled somewhere far off, siphoning along the mortar joints running along the stone floor. Vivid green moss clung to corners and it was eerily silent, this was a place were people had given up even the thought of freedom.  
  
"Don't tell me, trouble with the Empire right?" Hang Nail questioned correctly and brought Taichi back from his thoughts.  
  
"How did you know?" the brunette man snapped in alarm. Had it gotten out already that the famed General had been beaten and accused of being a heretic to the Empire?  
  
The scrawny young man leaned up against the wall and piped smugly, "Well I'm a very observant man and I noticed your ring is one given to military officers of high rank."  
  
"What has that got to do with me being an outlaw against the Empire?" Taichi questioned, inspecting the man before him with a suspicious gaze.  
  
This brought a slithering smile to his narrow face and Hang Nail chuckled dryly, parting his lips to reveal rows of stained yellow teeth, one was even capped with silver. "Listen fellow, if you're currently in with the high officials, you're bound to piss 'em off one day or another. They cry spy or conspirator just as quickly as they call a mistress to bed!" he exclaimed wisely.  
  
Taichi softened a bit towards the man and laughed, "I like your style." Then he held out his rough scarred hand and added as warmly as the man could muster, "You can call me Lion Eye."  
  
The tiny man shook Taichi's hand vigorously and replied with a boisterous boom, "And I am known as Hang Nail, the greatest thief and love maker in all of the United Kingdom."  
  
*  
  
"Miss, I'll have another cold ale please," spoke a dark haired young farmer whose dirt-smudged face was littered with freckles. He sat back at the table, bashfully admiring the pretty bar maid, referred by all as Sora.  
  
The woman smiled, an act which appeared to brighten up the entire tiny bar, and nodded her head. Her shoulder-length strawberry blonde hair looked sleek in the crackling firelight and her pleasant face glowed with a radiant kindness. "Of course, sir," Sora said and her lovely voice stood out from the loud chatter of the tavern's customers, graceful and warm like an open invitation.  
  
Then the slender female adorned in a peasant's binding pale blue bodice and long white skirt crossed the room and went behind the bar. Customers swelled within the tavern, most were men back from a hard days work in the field and a large amount were secretly here to steal glances at their resident beauty, Sora. A homely woman with a plump belly and blonde frizzy hair, her large swelling mantel covered by a black shawl, was already pouring a mug of amber ale. She handed it to the girl, saying as she did, "There ya go lass. Take this to ya fine gentl'men customer an' then see to tha big-mouthed arse over at th' far table."  
  
Sora lifted her cinnamon eyes just far up enough to view the muscular man dressed in Roman soldier garb and a glimmering sword, with the empire's symbol embezzled on it, dangling at his belt. He was laughing with a few of his loud buddies and then, catching sight of the beautiful Sora, shouted with a weighty bang to the table top, "You, girl! Get yourself over here with a few beers!"  
  
The portly Irish woman looked at Sora with a grimace and sighed, "Wish we never had ta hear head nor tail of these army buffoons... But we got nay a choice, bes' just to serve 'em an then send 'em on t'eir way." Her eyes shown an intense deep blue like the farthest depths of an ocean and her smile was broken, teeth protruding at odd angles from the dry chapped lips that smacked together often. Her face was lined with a few splattering of wrinkles and it sagged from wear but in a certain light you could almost catch sight of the stunning beauty she must have possessed in her prime.  
  
Sora offered up a consoling smile and patted the woman on her sturdy shoulders. "Don't worry about it, Mrs. O'Merril. I can handle this lot of drunken fools," she said, offering up a wink, and then was off to serve her customers.  
  
The bar maid finished giving the drink to the young dark haired man and then bravely approached the soldiers.  
  
"And what can I get for you this evening, gentlemen?" Sora asked with a sarcastic grin, a hand to her hip.  
  
"A Gods-damn pint of ale!" roared the man, his buddies finding this most amusing and setting to howling in response.  
  
The girl's mocking smile remained and she bowed politely, "I'll be back in a moment then, sir."  
  
But before the girl could leave, the man's strong, calloused hand shot out and he clutched Sora's wrist, petting her soft skin with a rough thumb. "Hold on just a second there, girl. Maybe I was a little harsh in yelling, eh? You are awfully pretty, you know that? Certainly fair enough to wake up in bed beside. Perhaps there's something else I would like to get along with my order of beer." the man let his words drift off seductively. His face was handsome with a strong cleft chin and rich hazel eyes, filled with a drunken lust. Hair of light brown adorned his head and his skin was pale like butter cream, one could tell he'd lived his whole life a soldier and would most likely die one.  
  
"If you don't let go, you'll be getting a blackened eye with your order," Sora growled in response and her pretty scarlet eyes narrowing as the pain on her wrist increased.  
  
The man erupted with hearty, spiteful laughter, spittle flying from his mouth. "Didya hear that, fellows? This wench thinks she can outmaneuver a gaggle of soldiers, Rome's finest sons!" The man's chums snickered beside him, giving the girl wanting glances.  
  
"Fine sons the lot of you are," Sora spat, her eyes jagged with hatred, "Making advances on women and bribing shop keepers for all their coin, practically snatching the daily bread off their tables! The only sons you bunch are is of the dogs!"  
  
The soldier's nose flared with anger and his other hand flew out and contacted with Sora's cheek in the flash if an instance, slapping her clear across the face. He saved her no force, putting all his might into it and causing her to snap her head to one side, an ache spreading along her taut cheek. The tavern grew silent, all eyes turning towards the scene, as the man snarled, his temper glowing like fire embers, "Do you dare speak of heresy against the Empire?"  
  
Sora lifted a hand to her hot cheek and her jaw locked together, her crimson eyes ablaze with defiance. The sting still lingered on her skin but she bit back any threatening tears, never would she show such weakness to these scum. She replied wisely and evenly, her crimson eyes turning molten and moist in the firelight, "I know not of nor wish sacrilege against my own homeland. You, sir, are the vandals of Rome! You penetrated Rome with your wrongs and raped it of all its virtue."  
  
The man made a quick movement upwards, knocking his chair to the floor with a clatter. As he did so he wasted no time in grasping downward and pulling forth his gleaming sword, a weapon that echoed the cries of its numerous wrongly slain victims. He pushed the point just inches from Sora's thin swan-like throat and said, "How dare you speak of such filth!"  
  
Mrs. O'Merril waddled from out behind her bar and rushed in between the two conflicting individuals with pudgy arms raised. "Stop righ' there, laddy! You an' your ninnies know ther' ain' any weapons pulled in me tavern," the frizzy haired woman said sternly, wisps of blonde frayed curls framing her face.  
  
The soldier pushed Mrs. O'Merril down onto a chair forcefully, placing his forearm across her shoulder and shoving her into a sitting position, his dark eyes glinting dangerously. "Stay out of my way, old hag, or I'll slice your fat clear off your bones," he growled and Mrs. O'Merril gasped in shock at the gory image. Then the man turned back to Sora and hissed, "See this grand sword I have pointed at that delicate little throat of yours, serving wench? My Father, the Roman Empire, bestowed that to me after I fought for him in battle. He has provided for me when no one else gave a shit and clothed my back when the rain clouds set in. I have sworn my life to my Father, and promised in turn to take the life of anyone who lashed tongue against him. Do you do such a thing now? Must I splatter your pretty red blood upon these tavern walls?"  
  
Sora looked straight into the man's face and felt the sword point dig a little deeper into her throat, causing a tiny trickle of blood to ooze forth and pool in the hollow where her collar bones met. Without hesitation she uttered, "Rome would be shame-faced to have you as his son."  
  
The girl thought herself dead then; her last words had been uttered. The seconds drifted by so slowly, every movement like a ripple shivering in a pool of water. The soldier was about to plunge forth his sword into the woman's windpipe, his face so alive with anger and yet so desensitized of all things associated with death, when abruptly The Boar Tusk Tavern's doors swung open with a hollow bang. Out from the dark cold night stepped a short boy, covered in a large woolen jacket and a hood which hid most of his wind-beaten face, and he shouted urgently, "A swindler just made 'way with five fine army-issued steeds! I tried to stop him but he galloped off, towards Eastbrook! Hurry men, off to the chase!"  
  
Suddenly the tavern was awake with cries of alarm as the inhabitants bolted out the doors in hot pursuit of the horse thief. The soldier who held Sora in her perilous position threw her to the floor and ran out into the night, shouting, "Can't a man trust his ride outside without worry that it will be stolen, post and all, from out under his nose?"  
  
Mrs. O'Merril fell to the floor beside Sora, onto her aged knees, and lifted the girl into her protective arms, petting her head affectionately. She sobbed, "O m' God in Heaven! I've not been so scared since poor Mr. O'Merril fell dead as a boiled cabbage head in m' arms. O my, what a beast those military men are, like a pack of wil' dogs all come out t' feast on the bones of the innocent folks!"  
  
Sora patted the old woman's back and felt a tear form in the corner of her eye. "Aye, I know. But it certainly could have turned out much worse," Sora said and then turned her attention to the boy standing in the doorway. "The only reason it didn't was because of you. I don't know if fiends really made flight with those soldiers' horses or not, but all the same, thank you. Is there anything I can offer you in return for your aid?"  
  
The cloaked figure nodded his hooded head and spoke, his voice cracking as his words escaped from out of a parched throat, "Water..." Then suddenly the boy's legs gave way and he crashed to the ground in a fatigued heap.  
  
Sora and Mrs. O'Merril dashed towards the fallen lad and Sora knelt down, removing the hood from the young man's sweat encrusted face. His dry lips were parted to release short ragged breaths and the dry dirt caked at his boots suggested he'd had had a long walk here. His fiery red hair was plastered to his brow and Sora took his head in her warm lap as Mrs. O'Merril ran to get some water.  
  
*  
  
Closing Notes:  
  
I bet you figured out who the boy who saved Sora is huh? Don't worry though this is still a T/S ficcy. My history knowledge is not that great but I hope I was correct in assuming people from other nations and countries made their home in Rome/the provinces too. O ya and I made Sora a strawberry blonde just because I think it sounds better then orange hair, don't you think? 


	3. Chapter III

Author's Note:  
  
Well here is my first Digimon fic (Hmm I think...). I've tried to keep all the Digimon members fairly in character while still manufacturing enough angst and thrill for the story to be interesting. This is sort of like an epic; I just started writing and couldn't stop. It's also a spin off of 'Gladiator' with many of the same concepts as the movie, although I have added a lot of my own elements.  
  
Disclaimer:  
  
I do not own 'Digimon' or the movie 'Gladiator'. I do not own any of the Digimon characters as well, only my original ones. I do not own the Empire State Building, an ice-skating rink, or the world's largest ball of yarn either. *Sighs at bad attempt at joke* O well, you get the idea.  
  
So please read ~ review ~ enjoy!  
  
  
  
Of Men And Heroes  
  
  
  
By Jasmine  
  
  
  
Chapter III:  
  
*  
  
"Rome is crooked and will always be crooked; nothing you can do will stop that, except in leading innocent men to their deaths!""  
  
*  
  
Takeru stood alone in the study, staring out the large window into the placid grey morning sky, an arm folded behind his back. The tall sandy blonde haired man seemed at peace, an inner happiness emanating from him as that of a young man in love. As he sipped his cup of hot elderberry tea a certain mysteriously veiled woman danced and spun in his thoughts and a cold glint of pale sun fractured along the surface of his pallid eyes.  
  
Suddenly Yamato passed by and, catching sight of his sibling, cried joyfully, "So there you are brother! I see you weren't as successful with the maid from last night eh?" His older brother's face was alive with youth and arrogance, just as it always was.  
  
Takeru averted his gaze from the window and inquired with the slight shifting of a smile, "And what makes you say that Yamato?"  
  
"Because if you had been then you would not be standing here alone with only your thoughts, you would be in your bed sleeping by her side right now, that is why!" The young Emperor smirked and offered a jovial wink, as he walked into the study and stood close to his brother. The smell of leather musk laced the air as well as the heavy pungent scent of age- tarnished pages and the bittersweet fragrance of rain.  
  
Takeru chuckled and shook his head, staring into his cup of dark tea for a moment. "That is all women are good for to you, Yamato. Not always is it necessary to bed with them upon the first meeting, you know," he responded, not able to hide his distaste in his tone.  
  
Yamato mockingly pouted and glanced out the window. "You mistake me for some womanizer, I think! Have you not heard of my impending engagement, brother? Surely womanizers do not marry," he exclaimed flippantly even as he knew this was not the case at all.  
  
The young man shook his head slightly, splaying golden tendrils across his brow, and responded, "No, then they are merely married womanizers." His comment sent a chortle of laughter from Yamato's throat and Takeru smiled as well. "So tell me, what is the name of this poor betrothed girl who is cursed to receive such a horrible husband?" he joshed lightly.  
  
Yamato chuckled dryly and responded, "The Egyptian Pharaoh's youngest daughter, Mimi."  
  
Takeru's eyes undulated wide and he spoke, "O good fortune to you! I hear she is a beauty, the purest of desert rose. She will make an excellent wife and give you beautiful children." Takeru patted his brother upon the back in congratulations.  
  
Yamato smiled slightly yet his tidal eyes were awash with forlorn. "Yes, I am sure she will make a wonderful wife. Yet will I make a proper husband? I think not. Can you imagine me going to bed with the same woman night after night? I do not think I am cut out for that sort of life, brother. Look at me," he protested and held his lengthy arms spread out by his side. "I am in my prime! What a waste of a good male specimen!" he exclaimed, a part joke and the other serious; he hesitation towards marriage and settling down fracturing along the blue of his irisis with the gilded sunlight.  
  
Takeru laughed and rolled his eyes, "Brother, you certainly have a taste for theatrics. I am sure it will not be as such a horror as you believe it to be. And I am sure the world will manage to survive without one less bachelor on the prowl."  
  
Yamato sighed, turning his gaze slightly to the window and letting his thoughts overwhelm him for a moment. Then he heard offset footsteps coming down the corridor, the thwacking of a dead leg clouting upon marble as it rose and fell askew from the rest of his body. It was Erasmois, seeming a bit agitated. Yamato, in his classic cheerful and overconfident way, shouted out to his friend, "Erasmois wait! Come in for a bit will you?"  
  
The man paused before the door and seemed to take a moment to shake off his upset haze, before turning to the Emperor with a taut strained smile. "Why, yes of course, your Highness," he soothed in mock pleasantry and walked in to stand some feet beside the tall blonde haired man. The medium length man with the ashen skin and darkest hair watched them with his gaze, always calculating, as if one might be able to see the hundreds of fevered thoughts darting beyond his opalescent jade eyes. Takeru glared with icy daggers at Erasmois, never had he trusted him; the young man had always been a keener judge of character more so than his overzealous brother, and could see the possibilities for betrayal in the senator.  
  
"Good. Now that my two closest friends are here I can tell you of my arrangements," beamed Yamato, placing an arm around each of their shoulders and pulling them in closer. "I want to greet my new bride with a grand celebration and at the heart of this joyous occasion will be the entertaining gladiator fights, equivalent to nothing this fair city has ever seen!"  
  
Takeru looked at his brother in confusion, as if he'd just spoken to him words of overwhelming discernment, and gasped, "But Yamato, our own father put an end to gladiator battles and closed down the large Coliseum for all of time. How can you speak of such things, undoing the lasting deeds of our father?"  
  
The lanky blonde was hurt and dismayed to find his brother not accepting his proposal. "What father did as Emperor was his deciding and I will not make such a disobedient deed as to argue against them. Yet when he closed down our Coliseum he himself admitted to putting many citizens out of employment and into the streets, never mind halting a huge revenue of money being poured into Rome," the young man spoke.  
  
Takeru could not believe his ears, what his brother was suggesting was insolence! "Father saw it as a moral evil, Yamato, and he would go to any lengths to shut it down! He was a man of his convictions..." the young boy began to speak in defense for his father, a man who was much like himself, thoughtful and less given to acts of show. Their father had lived his days as a shadowy figure that guided Rome with a hard hand and a keen mind, he rarely stepped out to bathe in the glamors his position offered. He was strict with them, most of all Yamato was his first of kin and destined to take the throne; he was always judging, always harsh, and eternily disapproving.  
  
"Father is no longer ruler!" the young man blurted out angrily and with spite in his tone. His eyes were fiery for a moment, flickering with jealousy and remorse, it became clear to Takeru that Yamato felt as if he was always trying to live up to his father and his expectations of him as a ruler, never was he good enough. Never was he the strong, brilliant young man his father had hoped for, he was just an immature playboy and unfortunately the first-born. Yet no longer would he live in that man's reflection, or so he feigned his belief; yet little did he know that even the dead can cast shadows. Calming himself slightly, he continued in a grave voice, "I am, Takeru, I am the only one seated on that throne, whether you like it or not. I will govern this land as I see fit, even if it means hearing father's rumblings from the halls of Olympus."  
  
Takeru pushed his face nearer to his brother with a pleading gaze, unable to hold back the shock in his features at this idea even being considered. Why did his brother let his jealousy towards his father fuel his every decision? Why, when he had hated father's governing over him while still alive, did he allow his memories to still dictate him now? "Brother, it is a blood sport, play only for those uncivilized. Even if it does generate capital, it is a barbaric form of amusement. Is it worth having a lavish, wealthy city if all in it are destined for the Underworld?" he questioned, his pale eyes both beseeching and outraged.  
  
Yamato had regained himself again and tried to force the moment into a lighter mood. He laughed, curt and strained, at Takeru's objections and put a hand on his shoulder. "O brother, now you are the one performing the theatrics! Gladiators are just a form of sport, a way for my people to come together in a common love for Rome. Even the great Julius Caesar held a massive gladiatorial celebration with more than three hundred dueling pairs in 65 BC! Why end such a wondrous tradition just because a few conservatives and old farts believe it wrong?"  
  
"Here, here Yamato! I agree full-heartily to your proposal! It is a very suiting way to impress the fair eyes of your soon-to-be wife," Erasmois chimed in, previously watching the brothers argue and biting back his smile of mirth.  
  
Takeru glared at both of them, his disgust evident in his voice, "If you two wish to bathe this land, our father's empire, in blood then do so on your own. I will take no part in such crude and boorish acts." Takeru leveled his burning, solemn gaze with Yamatos' and spoke softly, his voice grated, "But know this now brother, I have made it quit apparent I have no wish to succeed you to the throne, yet I have no wish to see you sitting upon it either. In my eyes, never will this Empire be yours, Yamato. Never." Then the young man turned and stormed from the study, his knuckles turning into white fists by his sides.  
  
Yamato watched his brother leave, his mouth agape at their fall from each other's graces. "He has certainly been acting temperamental lately," the Emperor finally remarked quietly.  
  
Erasmois got a wicked glint in his deep forest green eyes and answered, "Aye I see that too. His mood has soured, perhaps much like his intentions?"  
  
Yamato sharply looked up between a fringing of flaxen strands and spoke harshly, "Just what are you implying Erasmois? He speaks without thinking, in fits of rage, that is all."  
  
"O but of course, my Emperor. It is just that at this time all, no matter how trustworthy you believe them to be, can turn out to be a wolf in sheep's clothing. He speaks of a desire never to be ruler yet how are we to know what truly burns within his breast? It is best to keep an eye out for such things..." Erasmois said and he let his words trail off affectively.  
  
The Emperor's cerulean eyes narrowed into jagged slits and he curtly said, "Thank you for your advice Erasmois but the next time I need it I will ask for it, understood? Now leave me be."  
  
"Of course, my Highness. Have a good day." Erasmois nodded his head towards his ruler, lowering his gaze, before looking up and stealing a glance at Yamato, his face ashen and shaken, the perfect desired affect. Then he turned around and a cunning smile danced over his face as he left the study.  
  
Yamato looked out at the calm morning and muttered to himself, "Foolish man and his ghosts that haunt him..." Yet even as much as he thought he believed not a word of what Erasmois spoke of, Yamato could not get the thought out of his head, his brother had been furious with him, and who did not want a chance to be Emperor? Turning to stare at the delicate porcelain cup filled with cold tea, the Emperor spoke to it as if it were a living object, "Imagine my brother against me? Preposterous! Wolf in sheep's clothing indeed! I think Erasmois has been reading too many children's fables!"  
  
The thought of Takeru painfully stabbing him in the back with heresy would not leave the Emperor's mind, drifting along in the back of skull, a laughing ghost that taunted him, and suddenly he knocked over the cup with the back of his hand. The cold elderberry tea splattered on the stone ground and the fragments of pretty porcelain shattered, slivers of creamy china speckling the marble. Yamato looked at it angrily, a loathing suddenly for his position rising in him; this throne was fating him to an arranged marriage and now it was tarring his from good terms with his brother. He growled in anger, "Damn this Empire!"  
  
*  
  
Sora stood by the man's bedside, the gilded sunrays parting through the billowing cloth curtains to outline her well-formed silhouette, and she studied his quiet features. Flaming red hair, a calm looking appearance that seemed to exude wisdom and tranquility, and hands worn only by the pages of texts; the stranger looked like a gentleman city dweller. He also wasn't the young boy she had first thought him to be, partially because he was short in stature and his face held a youthful quality to it, but rather a man only a bit less in years then she.  
  
Suddenly his brown eyes fluttered open, the morning light dappling his pale flesh in undulating designs, and he quickly accessed the situation in that witty mind of his. "Wh... Where might I be?" he asked and tried to sit up.  
  
"At The Boar Tusk Tavern. Please sir, lay back and do not strain yourself," the strawberry blonde smiled softly and soothed.  
  
The man ignored the woman's request, throwing off the blankets and swinging his legs over the side of his bed. He said eagerly and without a moment to waste, "The Boar Tusk Tavern you say? And just exactly in what province is that?"  
  
Sora put her hand on her hip; strands of pale crimson tinged hair splaying loose from the silver clasp and into her frustrated cinnamon eyes. She remarked a bit crossly, "Listen, it is best you rest, you came here practically dead of chill and lack of water. I am thankful of how you saved me last night but not so thankful that I will take kindly to you ignoring my hospitality!"  
  
For the first time the red haired man, stopping temporarily from searching for his boots, looked up at Sora and smiled politely. "And for that I am certainly grateful. I mean not to tarnish your generosity, miss, but I have some personal matters I must attend to."  
  
The young tavern maid sighed and then returned the grin, her heart shaped face luminescent. "Well, if you must jump out of bed before even getting a proper rest, at least I can fix you up a meal to take on your travels. By the way, my name is Sora," the woman introduced herself.  
  
The man nodded and spoke in such a gracious manner Sora was unfamiliar with hearing, "And I, madam, am Koushiro."  
  
The two shook hands and Sora then asked, her curiosity peaking, "So tell me Koushiro, what is a well-bred gentleman like yourself doing in dreary Quarry Valley, home to only farmers and the lowest of Empire scum?"  
  
Koushiro was sliding his mud caked boots over his sore welt-ridden feet with a wince and he answered, "I don't think I should tell you... But after all that you have aided me in, I at least owe you the truth..." He finished lacing up the worn leather ties; the edges frayed, and glanced up at the young woman with an amused laugh. "And I can assume you would take no less," he added with a chuckle at Sora's brazen spirit.  
  
The scarlet haired young statesman continued with a sigh, "I am in bad favor with our Emperor and his ninny minions."  
  
Sora immediately took interest, her crimson eyes going wide, somehow she had expected as much though, one of such fine nobility did not come to the Valley unless in dire need of a place to conceal away in. She breathed in confusion, "Why are you going back then?"  
  
The young man looked out the window, into the morning unfurling upon the quiet vivid hills and he half wondered what was keeping him from living out the rest of his days here in peace. "To make right what others have made wrong. I suppose it is rather naive of me to believe my presence may change the whole course of history but I find it impossible to turn away from the plights of my fellow man," Koushiro explained as he stood and pulled over himself his thick robe, the air was laced with a sweet balminess but he'd have to wear the heavy cloak as guise.  
  
"I am going with you." Sora's words were so shocking and abrupt that they cut through the room like a sical through a field of ripe flaxen hay. She stood by his side; her spine erect and her eyes glanced at him with a mix of determination and pleading.  
  
Koushiro was surprised and he shook his head in reply quickly, "No... No, that is not possible miss. It is far too dangerous for a woman like your self to get involved in such back-handed ordeals."  
  
Sora only seemed to become more defiant and rebutted, "Excuse me, Mr. Koushiro, but you do not know me at all. Do not for one minute think you have me branded as some weak bar mistress, for then you will certainly be at a loss when you see all that I am capable of. Now either you let me aid you or else I'll head into this treacherous Rome you speak of on my own." The petite young woman raised her chin and set her jaw, looking at the Speaker with challenge flickering in her ember eyes.  
  
Koushiro smiled within at the girl's willpower and stubbornness. "Why are you so bent on helping me end the corruption in Rome?" he asked.  
  
Sora appeared to hesitate, choking on her own voice and her thoughts were almost visible as they churned within her brain. Then she looked at him, tucking back a strand of fine red-blonde hair, and replied, "No one wants to stay in Quarry their whole life."  
  
Koushiro felt Sora was holding something back from him but decided not to push the subject further. He paused for a moment in contemplation before finally relinquishing, "Fine, we will leave at noon."  
  
Sora broke her stony demeanor with a smile and said, "Alright I'll busy myself preparing until then." She walked out the door; her creamy cotton skirt brushing against her ankles, and Koushiro watched her before slouching back onto the stiff straw mattress of the bed. The young man ran a hand through the mass of thick scarlet locks and stared out the window, the warm light making patterns along his solemn face and sending the curtain into a methodical sluggish dance, somewhere close by a beaten tin wind chime was tickling with delicate twittering music. Alone with only his thoughts, Koushiro wondered what he was doing, how many lives would be altered because of his almost blatantly illogical decision to return.  
  
*  
  
Erasmois strode down into the jail, his expensive leather shoes avoiding the filthy puddles gathering. He held a satin cloth to his nose to prevent the putrid smell of rancid death from reaching his nostrils and walked with long purposeful strides. As he strode past the constable, leaning back on his chair and gradually drifting into a light nap, the large man jumped up with his beating stick in hand.  
  
"Hey you! Stop right there, you have to show me authorization papers first," shouted the constable, his eyes wide and still glazed with slumber.  
  
Erasmois spun around on his heels and struck the man like a rapid serpent, knocking him down on his back with the flat of his hand. His face was contorted in a snarl and his flickering green eyes burned with anger.  
  
The constable recognized Erasmois and immediately coward back, groveling like a beggar at the man's feet. "I'm so sorry, sir! I had no idea it was you! You can enter any time you like, excuse me for my ignorance," the man whimpered, his feverish pulse climbing and throbbing in his eardrums, his cheeks smeared with hot crimson.  
  
Erasmois kicked the man directly in the face with the hard toe of his shoe and blood spurted forth from the constable's nose. He cried out in pain and placed a hand over his tender face, tears welling in his eyes. "Damn right I can, insolent fool," the politician growled before reaching foreword and snatching the set of keys from the man's pocket with ease. Then Erasmois resumed walking down the aisle of the prison, the rage dissipating from him.  
  
Strangely, all the prisoners were quiet as the poisonous man strode by their jails. He seemed to radiate evil and all could feel the thickness in the air, even the most hardened of criminals staid silent in waiting among the deepest blue shadows and followed the man with their gaze. Erasmois stepped out in front of a particular cell and he peered within it. There were two men sitting upon the cold gritty floor, awakened from sleep and now staring out of the shadowy darkness that surrounded them, twin sets of opalescent eyes staring at him. One was emaciatingly skinny and grubby, with a big tuft of knotted blond hair on his small head. The other was a man of tan skin, aligned with muscles and warrior like; his body covered in bruises and contaminated etching cuts. His deep brown eyes seemed especially heavy with a loathing and mix of courage that Erasmois could not help but feel slightly frightened of.  
  
"I assume you are the great General Taichi?" Erasmois finally spoke, a slithering smile snaking over his ivory features; he spoke his name like a secret inside jibe.  
  
The man with the piercing brown eyes regarded the gloating pail-faced man with intensity and then said softly in his raucous, gritty voice, "Erasmois, I was waiting for you. Vultures always come back to pick the flesh off of corpses." His voice never wavered above that of a whisper yet it filled the void of silence, commanding the attention of all ears.  
  
Erasmois smiled smugly yet made sure to keep his distance from the iron bars, holding his weight on his one good leg and trying to conceal the other in the folds of his cloak. "True, General, and you are a corpse if I ever saw one. My men did their job well wouldn't you say? I imagine you are close to death and as weak as a little girl. No matter, the job I intend for you does not require you to be alive for very long anyway," he sniggered.  
  
Taichi watched him, squinting against the burning glow of the torches that bled into the quiet darkness of his cell with a smudged gilded glow, and Erasmois felt him studying him. The blinking of his long feathered eyelashes, flicking over the rises of his cheeks, the weak leg that was cumbersome to his gait, it was as if Taichi was making mental details of Erasmois, a battle strategy he had come to gain while in military service. The slow movements of his breath, quickening now, growing more fervent with each steely glance the warrior shot the politician. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale... "Strong enough to kill you," replied the man flatly. It was true what Erasmois had spoke of though, his head was pounding and a fever raged through his system, yet Taichi held his head high and kept his deep luster.  
  
Inhale...  
  
"Tell me," the man with the sun-kissed body began, his throat dry and raucous. "What do you think people will do when they find out you've had me imprisoned?" He was testing him with his gaze, seeing how far he could bend him before he snapped, and watched the tiny tremors quake and shiver along his jade eyes, inside Erasmois wasn't as powerful as he seemed.  
  
Exhale...  
  
He went on grittily, intimidating the man, "They'll come after you, the soldiers will travel to the Underworld for me and they will not spare you. You will be tarred down bit by bit when they get to you, Erasmois." Taichi never wavered above a whisper yet his dark gaze was piercing and shattered the man's resolve like dissipating sea spray.  
  
Inhale...  
  
The politician seemed shaken; so much that Taichi began to believe other events as well had caused him to feel such a sudden irresolution. There were doubts beginning to quake through him, the man with so much cunning now appeared hesitant. Finally the torches shivered gilded bands along the verdant irises of his eyes and the dark haired politician regained his smugness, or rather feigned it. "Fighting words from a man behind bars, at my mercy," he quipped and held his gaze for only a moment before averting them uncertainly, "You think the army knows you are missing? That anyone knows you are missing? Taichi, for one so supposedly wise you certainly are naïve; people are murdered every day, men such as yourself mysteriously disappear without a trace. You are no different, you are just another faceless shadow that has dissappeared without a trace along these city streets."  
  
Taichi narrowed his dark eyes and did not hesitate in his cold demeanor. "Then you will keep me here until my death," he said raggedly. "I do not mind death yet rotting away is not the way of a soldier." The belief that he would end up dead did not shake the man, it did not even register on the stone chiseled face. Yet he recalled his father, how they hauled him off to jail to spend his last days decaying in a dank corner, this was a deep fear of his.  
  
The man's jade eyes flickered like twin precious gems in the wafting torch light. "No," he spoke with a soft coneyving smile, "No, you will not stay here much longer."  
  
"Hold up, chum," butted in Hang Nail suddenly, the thought of finally leaving this jail thick in his brain, "Wherever he goes, I go. I'm like his representative, ya know?"  
  
Erasmois gazed at the tiny man and a sinister smile was on his face. "Fine. You can certainly join Taichi's side in the ring and share his bloody fate as a gladiator."  
  
Hang Nail's eyes went wide and he cried, "No way! I have changed my mind! Besides, I don't know if you've noticed, Era, but I'm not exactly fighter material."  
  
Deep burnt golden streaks fell along the jagged curves of the man's face and he murmured, "I do not expect for you to fight, dear boy. I expect you to die."  
  
*  
  
A long caravan hitched down the cobblestone road and a large entourage of personal guards, servants, and white horses followed. People crowded all around the sides of the street, children running to keep up with the moving wagon and the curious looking camel tied in the back, clomping along. The lining of houses echoed with the rattle of clattering pots, paced hoof beats, and spirited laughter. Mothers bowed their heads and fathers stuck their thumbs under the binding cords of their tunics, all unable to decide whether this new arrival would doom them all.  
  
A man stood in the group of onlookers and was almost completely camouflaged for he wore a black cloak over his small sturdy frame and was shorter then most men. He looked up at the caravan and his eyes regarded it with a quiet melancholy. A strawberry blonde woman soon saddled up to his side, hidden in a similar cloak, and also watched the wagon. "Who is that?" she questioned curiously, amazed by the parade of riches.  
  
"An Egyptian Princess and yet another play-thing for our Emperor," sighed the red haired man, unable to harness his frustration.  
  
The woman glanced all around at the gathering crowd and inquired, "They are all so solemn, it is very clear this is not a joyous event."  
  
Koushiro nodded his head. "Our Emperor takes to him a wife and yet disgards the well-being of his citizens. This Princess will prove to be yet another obstruction in the naïve young man's judgements, of this I am most certain," he responded and then added cryptcally, "Absorb this peace for I fear we will not have it for long."  
  
"A calm before a storm?" the strawberry blonde remarked as her shielded scarlet eyes followed the pretty, lavish caravan.  
  
Koushiro's features were grim as he stared at the excess of wealth surrounded by a sea of tattered cloth adorned peasants. "Aye, this isn't just a storm approaching however, it's the gates of the Underworld opening up. By the time these royals have a chance to react it will be too late. We all may be swallowed whole in the flames."  
  
The two figures stood within the throng of the silent sober crowd and watched as the caravan disappeared down the road.  
  
The little wagon and procession moved towards a vast whitewashed palace that looked to be erected from the finest marble and gilded with gold. Statues of the Gods decorated the outside yet were meek in standing next to the beautifully carved figures of the gigantic stone Emperors, all decked out in their most glorious garb and striking their most heroic poses. The caravan came to a halt just within a small walking distance of the door and immediately servants rushed about collecting goods, tending to the horses and camel, and unfurling a long satin red rug from the wagon's door to the Palace's entrance.  
  
A lovely vision of exquisite royalty and exotic beauty stepped gingerly from the wagon's door into the rather mild morn, the first day of April. Her long dress of vivid pink silk and soft purple gathered at her ankles; even her feet were adorned in wealth, jingling gold bracelets and small expensive sandals covered her delicate soles. The young Princess of Egypt regarded the Palace in shock that this grand place was to be her home, it was so very different from the rambling, collapsing Egyptian estates. Mimi tread upon the satin rug quietly up to the decadent wooden doors, each as big as a bull and decorated with golden lion head doorknockers, eyes of deep red gems piercing from above their sneared mouths.  
  
The heavy doors swung open and two maidens draped in silk gently began to dance as rich harp music poured forth. Mimi looked about and immediately was in awe of the large Palace and its high marble and gold spires. A young boy with a cheery round face stood up on the banister and emptied the contents of his basket; small dark crimson rose petals fluttered down like autumn leaves on the wind and weaved within Mimi's long light brown hair and floor-length gown of feminine beauty. The sun shivered into the large windows and gave the room an eerie quality, as if it were a floating castle up on the peaks of Mt. Olympus.  
  
A door, that led to another one of the corridors, which twisted and wreathed within the inner depths of the Palace, opened up to reveal a most divine creature. He was tall, yet not too tall; slender, yet still retained his manly appeal, perfect in almost every physical aspect. This man wore an outfit of the finest cloths and he had a soft glimmering head of touseled flaxen hair. A lively smile crossed his face, however Mimi thought she saw just a hint of melancholy in it. The man spread his arms wide as if welcoming the Princess and exclaimed joyously, "You have arrived, my Princess! I trust your travels were not as horrendous as expected?"  
  
"Not at all, milord. It was actually quite pleasant. I had never been outside my homeland's sandy borders before so I enjoyed every moment of the beautiful rolling sea and the glorious cascading hills of your kingdom. Your cities' tall skyscraping marble structures are too a splendid sight," Mimi spoke eloquently to appease her future husband.  
  
The Princess started to bow down yet Yamato caught her chin with the cradle of his palm and brought her hazel eyes up to meet his piercing azure ones. "You must not bow down nor call me milord. I am to be your future husband and thus we should share equal power," he said yet he was distracted with her angelic face, her long lashes that framed those lovely pools of soft green and brown. Yamato said breathily, "You certainly live up to your nickname 'The Desert Rose'. You are indeed more beautiful then I had expected, Mimi." He offered her a charming smile and began to assume the familiar role of charmer, she appeared for the moment yet just another pretty maid that he would say anything to in an attempt to get her into his bed.  
  
The Princess flushed a bit and she tried to turn her gaze downward yet found it impossible to do so. Her mind was captivated by his perfect reflection and graceful speech, the way his hand almost made love to her skin. "You are certainly more handsome then any dream I have had, Yamato," she purred, her voice rich with his intoxication.  
  
The Emperor laughed lightly and beamed, "So then you dreamed of me eh? I trust not an erotic one in nature?" Yet his gaze was seductive as if he wished she had, thrusting into her thoughts.  
  
Mimi's mind suddenly turned to Jyou, standing with tears caught in the corners of his eyes against a background of bursting night stars. Pulling back sharply from Yamato's touch she apologized hurriedly, "No!" There was a brief pause and she regained her composure somewhat although the rouge would not leave her well-defined cheekbones. "I meant I am sorry for saying such ill-mannered things. I do not know what possessed me to say that, perhaps it was the long travels," she excused quickly.  
  
Yamato appeared surprised at Mimi's change in mood yet he took it all in stride and again grinned. "Yes of course. Why don't you get some rest? I have more celebrations planned to ring in your stay by my side," he chimed in his usual good spirits. Then the Emperor called forth a small handmaiden and she eagerly accepted the offer to escort Princess Mimi to her new bedchamber.  
  
Mimi followed the girl down the long hall and the sun flickered across her skin, cast in undulating willowy designs. However all she could think of was Jyou then, in this wonderful hall and with the scent of rose swimming in her head. A sheen of tears pooled in her eyes at the thought of never escaping his haunting ghost that always lingered there in her mind; forget him as she tried she knew then she never would be able to, the memory of her only love would pain her to her death.  
  
*  
  
Hakari sat by the small fire and stirred her charred cauldron of hot, bubbling soup. Rabbit stew; she'd found it yesterday on the city green and it nearly broke her heart to have to club the furry little creature to death but she was starving and it was either her life or the rabbits. In hard times the young woman had come to be able to do anything to get by, sacrifices might sometimes have to be made for survival. Still, she'd whisper a prayer of thanks before eating it.  
  
The small room was shabby and drafty, wood from the walls had chinks between them where they met and whole pieces of lumber were missing. The smoke from the fire flew up the flue to be swept away by the evening wind. One mattress lay upon the grimy floor a few feet from the fireplace and a small table set with beaten silverware for one person sat against the far wall. This was all Hakari could afford, even if she did make good wage singing for the likes of tavern customers and royalty, it all went into paying the apartment's fat and greedy landlady. These were hard times indeed.  
  
There came a knock at the door, which echoed within the little room, and Hakari's nerves immediately went on edge. She ran over to her mattress and dug underneath it to retrieve a small, sharpened knife. Clutching her weapon with numb white knuckles, the young girl neared closer to the door and called with a trembling voice, "If you have come searching for Taichi, well then you have sniffed up the wrong tree. He isn't here, you awful blood hounds!"  
  
"I expected he wouldn't. But alas I came not in search of him; it is you I wish to speak to Hakari."  
  
Hakari's fright swelling at the fact that this person knew her name, she raised her blade a little higher. "I don't damn well care! Unless you are a trusted friend, you best step away from my thresh hold or else face the consequences."  
  
"I am Koushiro, speaker of the Senate and good friend to your brother, Taichi. I come bearing no ill will, I assure you, young miss."  
  
Hakari remembered her brother spoke of a Koushiro several times. If her memory was correct then this Koushiro fellow was knee high in all this corruption business, fighting a battle Taichi was known also to devote himself to. With a hint of hesitation, the young woman slipped the chain free and opened the door a wedge. Standing there in the bright scarlet sunset was a short red haired man covered in a heavy cloak and by his side a young woman with pretty crimson eyes and an angelic, youthful face. "Who is she?" Hakari asked.  
  
The woman spoke for herself. "I am Sora, a bar waitress from Quarry Valley. I come to aid Koushiro and your brother in their fight against the Empire's misdeeds."  
  
Hakari could not help but snort at the girl. She was so naïve, so devoid of any knowledge of what 'fighting against the Empire's misdeeds' really meant, of all the sacrifices involved. She gave out a slight, grating giggle, remarking dryly, "A bar waitress? My, you are certainly not selective with your recruits." Then, still alert, Hakari opened the door farther and invited them, "Come in."  
  
The young man entered first and smiled appreciatively. "Thank you, Hakari. I see now why your brother was always so proud of you and your apparent generosity."  
  
Hakari blushed faintly at the complement but, quickly remembering these were the people who had dragged her brother into his insane fight for good, she turned curt again. "Surely this is not a social call. Have you any word of Taichi?" she asked.  
  
Koushiro's gaze was downcast and his expression turned grim. He said sadly, "I am sorry to inform you, Hakari, that General Taichi was captured by the Emperor's guards."  
  
The young girl's brown eyes went wide and her hands began to quake. "No..." she whispered softly and a crystallized tear rolled down her cheek like a shard of lustorous glass, glistening a track of slick against her peach flesh map.  
  
Sora stepped foreword and raised a hand to the girl's shaking shoulder. In a comforting voice she began, "I know it must seem horrible right now, but Taichi sacrificed for a cause..."  
  
Hakari's face was damp with tears and turned molten in the ebbing firelight. She snapped her burning gaze up to meet Sora's crimson orbs. "The cause? The cause! You sound like an echo of my brother; with him it was too always about the damn cause! Well, I spit on your cause, I dance with lively feet upon your Gods-forsaken cause! Let me ask you, will your cause put food in the peoples' stomachs? Will it give relief to the agonizing screams of the children and women dying in the lane, afflicted with the horrible black disease? Will your precious cause bring my brother back to me?"  
  
Sora reared back from the grief-stricken girl and stammered, "I-I meant no menace by my words..."  
  
"I care not if you meant menace, for you brought it nonetheless! All of you! With your pretty lies of freedom you lead people into your open jaws and crush their bones with your promises of triumph! You people honestly think you can make a difference? Rome is crooked and will always be crooked; nothing you can do will stop that, except in leading innocent men to their deaths!" Hakari screamed in torment.  
  
The room was silent for a long moment until Koushiro spoke up, "Hakari, what happened to Taichi was of his own choosing. Nothing you or I could have done would have changed his fate. I will not speak to you of his reasons for that is not of my right, but of it comforts you, know that he did so with pride in his heart."  
  
"Comfort?" she snorted morosely and shook like a hued Autumn leaf being tossed by a chilled wind. Hakari fell onto her little wooden chair and her voice was gravely and hoarse as she said, "Get out of my home." Then looking up at Koushiro she said again, this time with a deep willpower and bitterness, "Leave."  
  
Koushiro stared at the misfortuned, tortured soul and then turned around and left, followed close behind by Sora.  
  
Hakari sat there and her body shook with sobs as the tears flooded her face, an onslaught of trembling despondency. Her brother's soft promise rang in her ears like a pebble being thrown from the lip of a deep chasm, "Never ever will I forget you."  
  
A small ember of determination glittered in her moist chocolate eyes. She was raised on the streets, she knew long before she learned how to walk the gory truth: All actions have a reaction. The people who had taken her brother to an almost certain death in the dungeons would pay dearly, even in her wretched of hearts she felt this resolve and rage.  
  
*  
  
Closing Notes: This is chapter III! Took me awhile but its finally here! What is the fate of Taichi? What have Koushiro and Sora devised as plan for a rebellion? How is Hakari determined to ruin the ones who have sentenced her brother to death; and how will this affect her relations with Takeru?  
  
O yes and P.S.! Does anyone have any idea how to download a layout to geocity? I've had a layout made to put all my fanfictions and art on the web but I am such a computer dummy, I have no idea how to load it and everything! Can anyone help me? E-mail me at picperfect85@aol.com. I'll be so grateful! 3 


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